Trials of Faith
by A.Pollachius
Summary: Fitz's dying father requests his son to return home to the South- a world fueled by religion, tradition, and racial division- to care for him in his final years. Finding solace in the halls of the university at which he teaches painting and printmaking, Fitz finds himself questioning the true purpose of his life. And one of his mysterious graduate students may hold the answers...
1. Bäumchen

**Hello all! I've been a reader for a few years now and I'm always amazed with what fellow writers come up with and now I finally felt inspired to attempt my own fanfic. I'd love any feedback, comments, or suggestions, and hopefully there will be more to come!**

Fitzgerald sat in the corner of his favorite diner with a plate of corned beef hash, a side of eggs, and a steaming cup of coffee with two sugars and two creams. After consuming a couple forkfuls of his meal Fitzgerald sat back, made himself comfortable, and took out his Moleskine journal. He started every Mondays this way, a new sketch. One of many sketches that would be added to the archive of sketches of passersby who happened to be outside his favorite diner the first morning of the week.

Fitz turned his journal this way and that way to determine whether his current sketch- an old man in a basketball jersey with the numbers peeling off was sufficient enough to deem complete- when his usual waitress Melody appeared at his table side. "Can I get you anything else darlin'?" she drawled out in her southern accent.

"Just one more cup of coffee." Fitz responded. "A couple more sketches and I'll be out of your hair."

Mellie leaned against Fitz's table, making it creak under the weight of her hip. Fitz chuckled to himself as he deduced that Mellie was definitely not the girl who grew up oblivious to her beauty; she knew she had it, and damned if she didn't use it. Without a word Fitz relinquished his sketchbook to Mellie's grasp.

"Very nice, _Professor Grant_..." Mellie said, no doubt in a voice she thought to be seductive. She then flicked the hair resting on her left shoulder away and slid the Moleskin back across the table. Fitz moved to slide the journal back to its original position, but Mellie's hand held in place on the table.

"So tell me Professor Grant, what's a girl gotta to do to get into this journal of yours?" Mellie asked, her hair falling back onto her shoulder.

"Hmmm, be outside this window on Mondays at nine o'clock?" Fitz quipped back.

"Naked." The word fell from Mellie's lips like a bowling ball. It was meant to shatter the playfulness of the conversation in the sort of resounding clang that caught everyone's attention. Mellie delivered two swift taps on the page that Fitz's sketchbook was opened to, one of a fully nude woman reclining on an emerald green chaise.

"Ah." Fitz said, unaffected by Mellie's implication. "Well if you are interested in figure modeling the art department is always looking for new faces... and bodies." And with that, for fun, Fitz gave Mellie a wink so subtle that if she weren't staring him in the face she would have sworn she was hallucinating. Her hip slipped a bit on the table edge and Fitz had to stifle a chuckle as Mellie tried to gracefully recover. "Uhh... let me get you that coffee" Mellie fumbled.

"Actually, Mellie," Fitz interjected, figuring Mellie needed to go recompose, "don't worry about the coffee. I'll just-"

Fitz was retrieving a bill from his wallet when he glanced out of the window and looked directly into the face of a woman standing across the street waiting at the crosswalk. Fitz was struck by the woman's visage. Her features were classically beautiful- symmetrical, proportional, with the exception of her eyes and lips. The woman had beautiful lips that were full and perfectly curved at the corners. But her eyes were the most striking. The were large and round, almost child-like, but piercing in their gaze. With irises golden brown in color that radiated in the morning sunlight canopied by thick black lashes Fitz thought his heart skipped a beat when the woman suddenly looked directly at him. Fitz's gut reaction was to look away, but he felt that she may disappear if he did. Her eyes remained fixed on him for a moment before she looked away. Fitz squinted to discern whether there was a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. He wanted her to look at him again.

This sequence of events to Fitz spanned an eternity, but in reality happened in a matter of seconds. Mellie still stood uncomfortably near the edge of the booth and it was only her taking the twenty dollar bill out of Fitz's hand that drew him back into his current surroundings. Without thinking Fitz began to pack his belongings as the woman began to cross the street and he realized that she would indeed disappear into the morning if he continued to sit.

"I'll be right back with your change, Fitz." Mellie said, waving a hand near him to catch his attention.

"Don't worry about it Mellie. Keep the change. Thanks." Fitz, managed to mumble and with that he strode across the vinyl diner floor in a substantially small number of steps and was out of the door.

Stepping into the morning air Fitz was momentarily disoriented by the flood of sunlight that met his eyes as he searched for the mysterious woman. He trekked up Roslyn Street in the direction he saw the woman go. Fitz didn't know what he would say or do when and if he caught up with the woman, but he was grateful that campus was fairly close by. Being late for the first day of classes does not a good first impression make. Not that it would really matter. The majority of the students in his morning class would probably be freshman frazzled by their first day of college and likely to be late themselves. Fitz could stand to be fifteen minutes late.

He rounded the corner onto 5th Avenue and saw the woman crossing the street yet again, this time diagonally onto Anke St. Fitz knew that this was suspect. _One who follows a random female stranger one has an unexplained attraction to? Stalker. One who has a 2-dimensional design course to teach in 10 minutes? Fitz. One who, despite that fact, still follows aforementioned woman for 3 blocks? Stalker Fitz. Great. Damn._ Fitz could almost laugh at himself for such inquiries that frequently ran through his mind. He moved out of sheer intuition. He was drawn to her for some reason. Of course she was beautiful, but there was more. Something in her air. Something that hung around her like a lavender fog at the break of dawn. Comforting somehow, yet mysterious.

One foot in front of the other. Gaze locked. Intent on his purpose. _I look like a stalker. I'm stalking this woman. Lord God._ Fitz scoffed silently to himself. He could stop and turn around and walk back towards camp-

She stopped. He froze. _Oh shit. She knows I'm following her. Shit. Shit! Don't desert, that'll look even more suspect. You two just happened to be walking in the same direction. Yeah._ Fitz proceeded a bit slower. He strolled at a leisurely pace, pretending to not look at anything in particular. The young woman veered towards a table spread generously with various crates of fruits and jarred goods. And so swiftly, as if she'd done it as a habit her entire life, the woman plucked what looked like a cherry from basket, tossed it into the air, and caught it in her mouth all while turning sharply into the open door of the storefront. When Fitz reached the store he recognized the facade. "Baumchen's" was the name painted in gold and red letters onto the glass of what Fitz could only assume was a German specialty store. Fitz always meant to go into the little store, but was always on his way to some other destination when he chanced upon it. But today Baumchen's was exactly where he wanted to be.

 **So what do you guys think of this as an opening chapter? I know things were a bit uneventful, but my idea for the intended storyline is meant to unravel a bit slower at the beginning. Plus, I was really just stretching my legs on this first chapter. Please comment and stay tuned y'all! :)**


	2. Ginger Snap

As soon as Fitz entered the store his senses of sight, smell, and hearing were overwhelmed. The interior of the shop was a long rectangular space with dark hardwood floors and panelling of the same finish going a third of the way up the remaining two thirds were painted with three broad horizontal stripes of black yellow and red that mimicked the German flag. Vintage advertisement posters were neatly spaced along the walls and It smelled heavily of hearty bread and spiced meats and Fitz made a mental note to genuinely come back to peruse the store one day soon. Fitz stopped to survey this and that, feigning interest in the little wares, but his eyes were sharp with intent. So intent that if the young woman were to suddenly come into view his gaze would surely slit her neck.

 _Morbid_. Fitz had strange fleeting thoughts like this ever since he was a boy. He had no suppressed anger, nor did he secretly enjoy disembodying sentient beings. His mind just went places sometimes. Fitz could admit that he was a bit odd, but artists were allowed to be, right? Either way Fitz was very sociable and quite charismatic- and if he was being honest pretty damn handsome- which made him likeable in the eyes of most, so his oddities went virtually unnoticed.

Fitz's attention was brought back to the sudden sounding of a miniature Volkswagen Beetle toy. Fitz plucked the toy from the shelf noting that it would make an interesting subject to paint in a still life someday. Moving stealthily Fitz peeked around corners and through the spaces on the metal warehouse style shelves trying to spot the mystery woman. _Where did she go?_ Fitz had made sure to keep a keen eye on the door to ascertain that she had not left yet. The faint tinkling sound of the bell attached to the door frame was beginning to give him anxiety.

 _Is that her?!_ Fitz spotted a young woman who had curly hair like the mystery woman, but did not get a chance to get a clear view of her face. He made his move. Fitz quietly rounded two corners trying to look inconspicuous as he peered in the curly-haired woman's direction. _Come on, turn around. Turn. Around._ It was strange how he so very much wanted to be in the woman's vicinity, but then he thought: what after that? Fitz then stopped, he shouldn't continue with this. Step. This was wrong. Step. But… Step.

Fitz's peripheral vision had gone unutilized the entire time he was in the store. Because of this, he did not see the flash of red barreling towards him. A figure collided into Fitz's left side, almost sending him into the shelf of glass honey jars. He then discerned the sharpness of an elbow right below his ribcage, but he rathered the bruise in his side over a bruise in his wallet paying for spilt goods. A disaster was narrowly avoided.

"Ah! Es tut mi- Goddammit, Grant!" Fitz recognized the voice instantly. Whelan. Abigail Whelan. Newly Professor Whelan- Fitz's former student and now coworker. _Oh, Lord…_ Fitz rubbed his side and smiled as he turned to greet his friend.

"Morning, Abs. Or should I say 'Guten Morgen'? Was that German? I didn't know you spoke Germ-"

"Oh please, Grant, I didn't hit you _that_ hard!" Abigail said swatting Fitz's hand away from his side. "And yes, _Ich spreche die Deutsch."_ Abigail smirked and straightened her oxblood colored blouse. Fitz chuckled as he contemplated on how Abs always played up the "gingers are evil" vibe because she had a snarky, razor-sharp personality and a twisted sense of humor. It also didn't help that she looked like a bad ass super model with a fiery mane and consciously incorporated red into every outfit she wore. Fitz was pretty sure Abs was an evil villain on the weekends. _Ginger Snap… No, The Singenin' Ginge._ Fitz laughed to himself- Abs would kill him.

" _Gut zu wissen."_ Fitz smiled, "What are you doing over this way Abs, I thought you had a class this morning?" As soon as the question left Fitz's lips he regretted it. If anything Abigail had just as much right to ask him the very same question. But Fitz had grown extremely fond of Abs and was just looking out for her. The board loved hiring alumni, but also like to keep an extra close eye on them during their inaugural years.

"Oh, just checking in with my sister and grandma, this is actually my family's store. Hey! Speaking of, I believe my sister is going to be one of your graduate students this semester." Abigail said while punching Fitz in the arm- she had an aggressive sort of affection.

"Another Abs?! Lord, help us all." Fitz sighed, gaining another punch to the arm.

"Whatever, Grant! You love me- I'm your best friend forever. And you're gonna to love my sister; she wonderful and an amazing painter. But, look, I gotta get outta here- don't want the freshies to riot!" And like the flash that she was, Abigail was out the door and out of sight. Fitz would no doubt see her throughout the day and definitely when they were both done with their classes. Fitz was a bit of a mentor for Abigail and wanted to game plan with her at the end of the day.

Fitz heard the door open once more and he suddenly remembered why he was in the store in the first place. He glanced all around once more, but was certain she'd made her escape while he was talking to Abs. He let out a defeatist sigh and turned to leave the store as well stopping briefly by the toy shelf to replace the toy car he still held in his hand. Precisely when Fitz set the car down a voice called behind him. "So you are the legendary 'Grant' my Gala is always going on about." Fitz turned and was met with the sight of a fair skinned woman who was slightly short, slightly heavy, and slightly aged in the face. Everything about the woman's appearance seemed unassuming and unintimidating except for the fading tendrils of red that had long succumbed to the forest of snow white hair atop the woman's head. This was definitely Abigail's grandma. Fitz smiled widely and extended his hand to the lady. "Yes, ma'am, I'm Fitzgerald Grant."

The older woman took Fitz's hand in both of her hands and shook firmly once. "Verna Thornton" she said, although her German accent made her pronunciation sound like " _Vay-er-na Torn-nn"._

"Well Mrs. Thorton, it is lovely to meet you. Abigail is quite the artist. And a phenomenal professor. I'm was glad to have her as a student."

"Thank you, sir, I am glad to here that of my Gala. Can I help you find _some-zing_?" Mrs. Thornton asked.

"Oh, no ma'am, I just happened to-"

" _Some-vun zen?"_ Mrs. Thornton cut in flatly.

"Ma'am?" Fitz asked confusedly, now extremely aware of the fact that Mrs. Thornton still had not let go of his hand and was looking intently upon him.

After a brief moment of silence Mrs. Thornton continued on, "Look. _Mees-tah_ Grant. _Zie_ young lady you followed into my shop… she is not good for you. Very different. She is… how _vood_ you say… not like you and me, yah? Her kind-" And with that Fitz pulled his hand from Mrs. Thornton's grip. He felt a mixture of disgust, anger, and fear take over him all at once. He could do little to stifle the baffled laugh that escaped him.

"Mrs. Thornton." Fitz began, trying his hardest not to offend the woman that had so thoroughly offended him. It was the South, so Fitz would not pretend to believe racism was dead, but it was usually disguised more cleverly. As a seemingly innocent question. Or as a poignantly observant comment. But never as an out in out "us and them" statement. The only other person he could imagine saying something of the like was his father.

"I respectfully refuse to know or care any further on what you have to say following the statement you've just made. _Her kind?_ Really, Mrs. Thornton- unacceptable."

"Sir, you misunderstand. Now, my granddaughter-"

"You have a good morning, Mrs. Thornton." Fitz said, turning on his heel a heading straight out the door. He was angered by the woman's racism, but even more disturbed by the fact that she -the racist little old German woman- picked up on his secret excursion. And in the same breath was trying to persuade him toward Abs. Unbelievable. Although, Fitz thought, maybe her remark was beneficial to him in a way. Fitz could not fathom how he could have left the store with any dignity if Mrs. Thornton confronted him in a way that didn't address the mystery woman's color.

Fitz paced so fast that he made it to campus right on time. With the syllabi for his first two courses in his laptop bag Fitz had no need to stop by the art office. He crossed the courtyard and entered the painting and printmaking building and immediately saw Ab with a group of students standing around one of her favorite drawings that hung in the main corridor. She was explaining how all of the element and principles of art and design were present in that particular drawing and how it was absolutely breathtaking. This made Fitz beam with pride. It was a piece on loan to the University that, for a time was on display in the admissions office, but eventually found its way back home to the art building. It was Fitz's drawing and Abigail knew this. She made a point to stop and admire it whenever she had the chance and today was no different. Fitz decided that he would gift the piece to Abs some day.

Room 230 was where Fitz's first class met. It was a oils 1 course that would either awaken his students to what classical painting was all about. No doubt some would love it or hate- he'd see who all would come back on the second day. His first class breezed by. Fitz handed out syllabi and materials lists and sent his first batch of students on their way.

His second course was a special topics encaustics class that Fitz had to beg the department for 4 semesters straight to host because although the course was highly demanded, precautions had to be taken to ensure proper ventilation. In turn, the graduate sculpture studio would host be the home of the course this semester. Fitz loved this room. It overlooked the north edge of campus and wonderful lighting. There was a small crescent-shaped pavilion a short distance away from the building perched on the grassy hill that sloped down into the woods. _This view alone should inspire them_ Fitz thought with a content smile. This was going to be a good fall, he just knew it.

All the ventilation requirements were already present, but the deciding factor was that there hadn't been a sculpture senior in 3 semesters so the studio was fair game at this point. His special topics students were all juniors so they were familiar with Fitz's teaching style and looked forward to getting the semester under way. Fitz stayed and chatted with a few who always kicked around after class, but then he conceded that he needed to grab lunch before meeting with his graduates that afternoon or he'd likely become very hangry by the day's end. There would be no formal class setting for these students, rather they would all meet individually with Fitz on a weekly or biweekly basis to discuss their progress. Fitz would be meeting his first-years today; eight graduate students for a half an hour each, back-to-back. _Must. Get. Food._

Fitz stopped by Katerina's and got the sausage and cabbage Monday special to-go. When Fitz arrived back on campus and headed straight for his office. He ate quickly as he listened to a TED talk. After he finished his food he intended on going through his graduates' application files to reread their artist statements and flip through their portfolios. Fitz liked to have an idea of what skills and ideas each student would be bringing to the table and by doing so work with them better. However, Fitz only got through one file before the chairman of the art department, Cyrus Beene, peeked into his office.

"Fitz, my favorite person. First day going okay? If the answer is anything other than a 'yes' pretend like I didn't ask you that. Hey, look I'm meeting with Whelan and Novak later on this evening to discuss the progress of the new programs and go over Doyle's reviews- I think the students are beginning to resent his teaching styles. I'm ordering dinner and we'll all just meet at my place. Oh, the Langstons too. You free tonight?" Cyrus always looked like he hadn't slept in days. He was an incomparable painter, yet always wore a suit to campus now. Cy liked to blame his style on his artsy nature, but really he'd only started really putting in an effort when one of the graphic design professors, James Novak, expressed his affections for him. Cy and James had been together for several years now and were happy. Fitz was glad his mentor and friend had finally found love.

Cyrus must have read Fitz's thoughts. He hated how everyone in the art department were "so in touch ith their feeling". In Cyrus's opinion it was great for art, bad for everything else.

After a moment Cyrus waved himself away, frustrated, yelling over his shoulder, "For the love of God Fi- see ya tonight."

"I'll be a bottle of wine!" Fitz laughed as Cy bustled down the hall.

Fitz turned back to his desk and picked up another file. He couldn't even read the student's first name when Abigail burst in.

"Grant!"

"Uggggghhhhhhh!" Fitz grunted playfully, "Whelan!"

"Tell me you're gonna be at Beene's tonight- I CANNOT be alone with him, James, Sally, Daniel, and Hollis talking about art shit. They are way too fucking philosophical when it comes to art and the conversation will eventually go straight over my brain cells and I'll be sitting there eating food and drinking wine that I will never be able to afford!"

"Oh. _Oh._ They haven't told you…"

Abigail's eyes widened and her mouth formed into a small "o" shape. She dropped into the closest chair. "I'm fired." A burst of energy followed in a short fit of air punching and kicking before Abigail flopped back motionlessly into the chair. "Fuck."

Fitz couldn't help throw his head back into a bellowing laugh. Abigail always thought the absolutely worst, but always conveyed it in the funniest ways.

"No, Abs, for heaven's sake you're not fired. Cy thinks you have good ideas and suspects you'll tell him like it is. If you haven't noticed our chairman is a straightforward kinda person. So are you. You'll be fine. And yes, I'll be there too." Fit'z tossed the file back onto his desk and decided he'd let all of his first-years surprise him.

"GRANT! UGHHHH, YOU'RE SUCH AN ASS!" Abigail got up and pushed a paint caddy across the floor. Then right as she was about the turn a figurine on it's side her phone pinged. "Crap. Be right back." And Abigail was out the door.

Fitz chuckled and pushed the caddy back to its place and placed the little figurine upright again. He started to clear out the other guest chair in his office, wanting to give the students at least the option not to sit their belongings on his studio floor that always had a little paint on it. A couple of minutes went by and then Fitz heard Abs's feet clicking down the hall. She didn't mind knocking a second time, or a first for that matter, she never did.

"You know, bursting into offices like that could mess up a great still life, with all the wind and such-" Fitz was holding a lemon in his he'd been debating on placing in a still he was painting for a class demo when he turned and was met with the same mysterious eyes from that morning. _How is she here?_

"Grant. Later." Abigail smiled waving his comment off, "Thisis my sister, Olivia. She will be attending Halcyon State and I do believe she is one of _your_ first years!"

Fitz. Was. Floored. _Her sister. Her_ sister? _How…_

"I'm adopted." the young woman said as if she knew exactly what was going through Fitz's mind.

" _Oh. What. Ever._ Technicalities." Abigail sighed throwing her arm over Olivia's shoulders. "Sister just the same."

Olivia stepped several paces forward, smiled warmly, and extended her hand to Fitz. "Professor Grant, it's wonderful to finally meet you. I'm Olivia Pope, one of your graduates this year."

Fitz took her hand and was suddenly hyper aware of everything he could readily observe about color of her eyes. The cadence of her voice. The perfume she was wearing. Her _skin_. _Her hair._ Fitz was drawn into it all. It was that morning all over again, but amplified.

"The pleasure's all mine, Miss Pope."

" _Miss_ Pope. _Miss_ Whelan. I hated when he used to call me that. It made me feel like I was constantly being interviewed. Either that or in some serious shit. Grant! You're already intimidating as fuck; ya gotta be so formal, too?!" Abigail ranted for a moment, all the while digging through her purse for a granola bar then proceeded in eating said granola bar.

Olivia laughed lightly and shook her head at Abigail's comment- there was no one like her and Olivia loved it. Fitz was stuck, Olivia could tell that he was amused by his colleague, but didn't really know how to respond. He glanced back and for between Abs and Olivia trying to decide how to respond.

"Professor Grant, you can call me Liv, that'd be perfectly fine."

"Well, Liv" Fitz smiled, "You can call me Fitz."

"Or Grant, he loves that." Abigail mumbled between bites.

"Abs… go away." Fitz teased.

"Fine!" Abigail sighed, "But I'm taking my company with me and we're going to go have a _proper_ lunch- bye" And with that Abigail interlocked her arm with Liv's and pulled her towards the door. Fitz's skin felt icy cold when their hands parted. He balled his fingers into a first and thrust it into his pocket trying to commit the feeling to memory. He couldn't form words to say bye to either of the women, rather he stood and watched as they walked out of the door.

Fitz sat back down in his desk chair and wondered what had just happened. What _was_ happening?Fitz shamelessly followed a woman 3 blocks in midtown just a few hours earlier and now he knew her name. He'd be her _professor_. _Lord God, what have I-_

"Oh, and Fitz?"

Fitz whipped his chair around towards the door to see Olivia peeking into the doorway. "Yes, Liv?" God, he liked that.

"Should I bring anything to our session later on today? My sketches or current portfolio or something?"

"No, no, I have your portfolio you submitted with your application right file here; that should give us plenty to talk about." Fitz wanted to say more. He wanted to ask her to come in and continue to talk, but he knew he couldn't. Well… he shouldn't.

"Okay," Liv nodded with a smiled, "See you at 5:00, Fitz." Then she was gone.

Even though Fitz had other graduate students before Liv's, he found her file on his desk and went to reading. The file wouldn't be able to tell him everything he wanted to know about her because he wanted to know so much more, but it would be a start.

 _What. Am. I. Doing?_ Fitz asked himself over and over before it was time for his first session. He asked and asked, yet kept reading.

His first student arrived, Jake Ballard. Jake was clearly skilled and produced very ambitious work- very promising. But with every sentence; within those small spaces stop and start; between every phrase and explanation there were only two words. _Olivia. Pope._


	3. NEW CHAPTERS COMING SOON!

Hello everyone!

I appreciate all of the follows and comments and am soooo glad you all are enjoying TOF! Sorry it's been SO long since I've updated, it's unacceptable really, But I've decided to go back to school and have a new job so my hands have been extremely full. I have the outlines for chapters 3 and 4 done, so stay tuned for them coming at you REALLY SOON. :)

-Ash


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